Habits
by Sephielya J. Maxwell
Summary: France visits Canada one morning for breakfast, and they both discover a few hard-to-break habits of one another's...


If this story gets **more +favs** than **reviews**, I will remove it! I **have it posted elsewhere**, so posting it here is _for those who wouldn't otherwise see it_! If you like it enough to fav it and read it again, _please _let me know! Don't bother leaving a comment to complain about this either, since that's just silly. Just enjoy the fic! If you would like a list to all of my fics, send me a pm! I don't come here as often as I used to.

This is from the good'ol APH Kink!meme some time ago.

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It was a nice, simply, quiet, casual breakfast. Canada was quite courteous considering that France had dropped by unannounced (as was usual, after all). The strawberry blond was generally happy to accommodate anyone who thought to visit him, as it was pretty rare what with everything going on in the world lately. Though he'd still been in pajamas when he answered, Canada now wore a faded pair of jeans and a plain red t-shirt. He felt a bit under dressed, as France currently sported a rather expensive ensemble consisting of tight black slacks, a silk shirt that was exactly the shade of his blue-violet eyes, and shoes which were likely some name-brand that wouldn't last a day of walking around as much as Canada did.

Regardless, he tried to be a gracious host. Stacks of pancakes sat steaming in the middle of the table, and Canada had just set down a container of maple syrup. They spoke about nothing in particular, mostly Canada answering the routine questions that the older nation asked each time that he visited. They spoke in English mostly, because the Canadian refused to have his French accents teased again this time. Everything was going normally, all according to their unspoken rules of engagement that were all so well used by now that Canada was almost answering questions before they were even spoken. And so it was only natural that when France reached for the container of syrup after having gotten himself a few more pancakes, Canada seized his wrist. Well, natural for Canada that is.

He brought the hand swiftly to his mouth, and France's eyes widened as he felt his finger slip into the moist, hot cavern. He could only watch in surprise as his former colony sucked lightly, feeling the younger nation's slick tongue slide against the tip in a rather dutiful way. Canada released the hand just as swiftly, leaving the cool air to chill the now damp finger. It wasn't until the younger nation caught sight of France's raised eyebrow that he seemed to even realize what he'd just done. Covering his mouth, a heated blush crossed his face.

"Oh god, Francis. Man, I'm sorry, it's a habit. It's just that Al—"

"Alfred?" The other eyebrow joined the first, high on France's forehead. Now he was even more curious. Canada frowned slightly, eager to put to rest any misunderstanding he'd just caused.

"He's messy, that's all. You had syrup on your finger and I didn't want it getting onto the outside of the container..." The strawberry-blond explained, face still a bit read as he reached for the container himself. He gave a bit of an indignant yelp as his own wrist was seized, three fingers promptly dipped into the warm substance. "Francis—?" He frowned at the older nation, pausing when he saw that grin of his.

"Ah, my mistake... Here, let me..." Before the stunned Canadian could protest farther, the first finger was encased inside of France's mouth. Lips sealed the digit tightly, as he began to suck gently.

"You... you don't have t..._nn_..." Eyelids shuddered as the older nation's tongue swirled around the tip in an all to obvious mockery of something else. Canada's hand was held still, but France's head moved slowly back, revealing the slick digit before he took it in again. This time he sucked hard as he pulled back, and Canada's lips parted to as his pulse quickened. And then France released the index finger with a small 'pop', licking his lips.

"_Mon dieu, _at this rate I'll never finish. Better step up the pace, _non_?" France smiled at the younger nation, who's cheeks about matched his hair. He knew that his little ex-colony knew very well where this was going. Canada managed a nod, and watched with half-lidded eyes as France then drew the two remaining syrup covered fingers into his mouth at once—his middle and ring finger. His tongue slid between them, slick and warm, teasing the sensitive area in the middle of them in another rather lewd mockery. This time as he pulled his head back with a firm suck, it actually made a sound. Canada shifted in his seat, the heat across his cheeks having spread all the way down to his stomach apparently.

France's blue eyes were all too knowing as he narrowed them with a smile, twisting his tongue around both fingers in swift circles, sliding between them to rub tauntingly, sucking hard or softly, noisily, nibbling the tips. At last when he was satisfied with their 'cleanliness', he let them slide free with one last hard suck to remove any extra saliva. Canada was panting lightly by this point, and looking quite uncomfortable in his chair.

"Sorry, _mon chéri_. It's a habit."

"W-what?" Canada blinked. "You don't look after anyone anymore."

"No no, nothing like that." France waved his hand dismissively. "I didn't mean a habit of cleaning up. You might call it a slight oral fixation, if anything." He explained.

"O-oh..." Canada averted his gaze for a moment. He looked back shortly afterwards. "How often do you... need to act on this habit?"

"Often." France's grin brandished his pearly white teeth.

"In that case... There's something else I have that seeks to benefit from that habit, eh?" Blue eyes locked with one another, and France set a hand over Canada's as he leaned in.

"I knew you were a child after my own heart, _mon petit ange._"


End file.
